


give him inches, feed him well

by narcissablaxk



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Anti-John Kreese, Canon Divergence, Feelings Realization, High School LawRusso, M/M, Misunderstandings, No beta we die like men., Pre-Tournament, Secret Admirer, Sexuality Crisis, Teenage Drama tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26977666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: Daniel is trying to find something to keep his attention at West Valley High after the truce has been struck. But Ali doesn't seem to be interested in him, and he isn't being bullied anymore...so he's bored.And then a note falls out of his locker and Johnny Lawrence asks him to spar after school.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 58
Kudos: 434





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [johnnylawrence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnylawrence/gifts).



Daniel wasn’t sure what to make of West Valley High once Mr. Miyagi took him to Cobra Kai – once the deal had been struck. Those days before had been a blur of dodging Cobras to hide in bathrooms, ducking back down the hallway to find refuge in the eyeline of teachers, avoiding Ali-with-an-I out of necessity. Now, with the truce well and truly in effect, Ali giving him only a sparing amount of attention in spite of his charm, Daniel had the opportunity to really see the school for what it was. 

And what it was, frankly, was boring. School seemed to be the same in California as it was in Newark, except a whole lot of the hallways were outside for some reason that he couldn’t quite fathom. He considered watching some soccer games, or joining a club, but his free time was always monopolized by karate training when he wasn’t at school. 

More often than not, being at school was just a series of hours where Daniel thought about karate, avoided Johnny Lawrence, and then repeated steps one and two. 

And then a note fell out of his locker, fluttering like it had wings, until it landed on the dirty floor. Daniel squinted at it and scooped it up before it could be swept down the hallway with the current. There wasn’t a name on the front, and it was really nothing more than a sheet of notebook paper folded poorly into a rectangle. 

He looked around, looking for someone familiar in the crowd. Was someone playing a trick on him? Was this another prank from the Cobras? He spotted no one but Johnny Lawrence, hand on his own combination lock, attention sufficiently subverted that Daniel immediately disregarded him. 

He opened the note, wondering as he did if he was just giving too much thought to some random trash that someone shoved in his locker grate on their way out to lunch or something. That would be just a perfect metaphor for his whole time in California, wouldn’t it? 

But no, it was a note, and it was meant for him, because it had his name on it. 

“You have a nice face when it isn’t bruised,” it said, the handwriting just messy enough that Daniel couldn’t say for certain if it was legible or not. He read it once, twice, a third time, looking for clues in the singular line. There was nothing to find. 

Nice face? Was that supposed to be a compliment? He scoffed and looked around again, just in time to catch the searing blue-eyed gaze of Johnny Lawrence on his way down the hallway, mouth set in his trademark jerk smirk. The note and its contents were momentarily swept from his brain in Johnny’s presence, and then he was gone, and Daniel was left to look down at the piece of paper in his hand.

He folded the note back up and left it in his locker. 

Maybe the note was from Ali, he thought hopefully. Could this be her way of apologizing for ignoring him for so long? The thought bolstered him, and he hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder as he thought about it. He would find her at lunch, he decided. He would ask her if she wrote the note. 

She wasn’t in the lunch line like she usually was, and a quick scan of the tables quickly doused his excitement. She was sitting with the Cobras again, this time sitting beside Tommy, talking kindly with him while nudging her food around on her plate with her fork. Tommy looked bashful, a different expression that immediately told Daniel what was going on over at that table. Johnny was sitting down the table from them, but he didn’t look bothered. 

What the hell was going on? A few weeks ago, Daniel practically got his head taken off for having a conversation with Johnny’s ex, now she was flirting with his friend three seats away, and he wasn’t bothered anymore? 

As if he said the words out loud, Johnny looked up from his spot and caught Daniel’s gaze. 

He turned on his heel and ducked out of the cafeteria. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally invite Johnny’s wrath. 

“Problem, LaRusso?” 

His voice was different when he wasn’t shouting, Daniel thought curiously. He turned slowly to meet Johnny, body already tensed like it was waiting for the punch. But Johnny looked as at ease as ever, white collar popped, headphones around his neck. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I said, problem, LaRusso?” Johnny repeated without clarification. “You ran out of that cafeteria like you were being chased.” 

“Am I?” 

“What?” 

“Am I being chased?” Daniel asked. 

Johnny laughed, an honest laugh, and shook his head. “I keep my truces,” he said, and the words weren’t unkind. 

“Yeah? You in a truce with Tommy too?” 

He didn’t know why he said it – he always had trouble keeping his mouth shut. Johnny’s jaw tensed, the same way it did when Daniel first met him, on the beach, surrounded by shadow and the crackling of the bonfire. He tensed for the blow – 

And Johnny just shrugged. “Gotta move on some time, right?” 

Daniel gaped at him. “So after all that, and you’re just fine with it?” 

“I didn’t say I was going to do a dance in the street, LaRusso, Jesus Christ,” Johnny muttered. 

“Well, I’m glad you suddenly matured before you cracked some of my ribs,” Daniel retorted, taking a step back to ready himself for his escape. 

Johnny rolled his eyes. “How’s your training going?” he asked, and if Daniel was hearing correctly, there was a hint of actual curiosity in the question. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he replied sarcastically, startling another laugh out of Johnny. He tilted his head at him, trying to read the blond boy anew. This wasn’t the same person who shoved him into the sand just for talking to Ali. 

Speaking of Ali…

“So who left me that note?” Daniel asked out loud to no one in particular, Johnny and his distracting presence momentarily forgotten. 

“What note?” 

“What?” Daniel asked, shaken out of his reverie. “Oh, someone left a note in my locker.” 

Johnny held out his hand for it. “Lemme see.” 

Cautiously, because he didn’t have anyone else whose advice he could seek on the subject, Daniel led Johnny back to his locker and fished it out, passing it over. As he opened the door, another piece of paper fell out. 

He passed the first one over to Johnny and grabbed the second one. 

“Yes, that was supposed to be a compliment,” it said. 

He scoffed a laugh and handed Johnny the second one. The blond boy considered them both with raised eyebrows and passed them back. 

“Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer,” he said. “Lucky you.” 

Daniel rolled his eyes, folding both notes back up and putting them back in his locker, Johnny’s eyes watching him do it carefully. “But who wrote them? I hardly know anyone at this school. I know all of one girl –”

“Unless a guy wrote it,” Johnny shrugged, leaning one shoulder against the locker. 

Daniel furrowed his brows, thinking of the handwriting again with more intensity. “No, a guy wouldn’t, do you think?” 

“Don’t think you’re pretty enough to get the boys’ attention, LaRusso?” Johnny asked, a smirk just barely visible on the edge of his mouth. 

“Nah, it’s just…” Daniel considered his next words carefully. “Are there any guys…like that…here?” 

Johnny was looking at him intently now, trying to read something in his face that Daniel couldn’t figure out. He met his gaze unflinchingly (weren’t you supposed to look a bear or a shark or any other predator in the face when they saw you?) and waited for him to answer. 

Finally, Johnny tore his eyes away and cleared his throat. “Who knows? I’m sure there are.” 

***

Daniel found himself, for the first time, paying attention to the people around him. He was determined to find out who left those notes in his locker. He made sure to look at everyone in his classes, looking in their visages for hidden clues. By the end of the day, he was surprised to find that he hadn’t hated paying attention in his classes, even if he still had no idea who wrote the notes. 

Johnny Lawrence found him at the bike rack, looking the same as he had during lunch, minus his headphones. If anything, the lines around his face were softer, like he was less tense in Daniel’s presence. 

“What are you doing later?” he asked, leaning against the metal bike rack while Daniel gaped at him, mouth half open. “You’ll catch flies, LaRusso.” 

Daniel snapped his jaw closed. “Shut up, Johnny.” 

“Wanna spar?” 

Daniel, in the process of throwing his leg over his bike, stumbled. Johnny, with an eye roll that Daniel felt was very unfair, given the abruptness of the question, caught him around the upper arm to keep him from falling over. 

“Tommy is going on a date with Ali and Dutch is going to get drunk. Bobby has some church thing, and Jimmy –”

“You don’t have to list all of your friends for me, Johnny –”

“Shut up, LaRusso –”

“Trying to find a loophole in the truce already?” Daniel asked, because why else would Johnny Lawrence, of all people, want to spar with him? Weren’t they enemies? Didn’t they hate each other? 

Johnny surveyed him with raised eyebrows. “No,” he said, firmly enough that Daniel almost took a step back. “That wasn’t what I was doing.” 

And then he was gone, striding off toward the school building without looking back, Daniel looking after him, feeling suddenly sorry, but for what, he couldn’t be sure. 

***

Training with Mr. Miyagi that night was horrible. The man himself was as patient as ever, but Daniel was frustrated. He was doing the moves correctly, learning the forms and the punches and kicks, but still, he was making stupid mistakes. He wasn’t putting his foot in the right spot – he wasn’t blocking his face with his fists. 

Mr. Miyagi sent him home early, a helpful pat on the back and a piece of wisdom later, and Daniel arrived back at his apartment just in time to take the trash out for his poor, overworked mother. He trudged back down the staircase in socked feet, avoiding the random little puddles that appeared in the uneven concrete, and made his way to the dumpster out back. 

Leaning against the fence where Daniel had gotten beaten up after the Halloween dance was Johnny Lawrence, holding a can of something covered in brown paper. 

“Johnny?” 

He was drunk, Daniel could see that the moment he looked up, his head tilting too far back to catch Daniel’s form in the dim lighting. Daniel tossed the trash in the dumpster and walked carefully over to him, avoiding broken glass in his socks. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. 

Johnny shrugged, turning his head to look off into the distance, away from Daniel. “None of your business, LaRusso,” he slurred, tilting the can back to his mouth to drink more. The smell that came out of it told Daniel it was cheap beer. 

“Sure, Johnny,” Daniel replied, if only to be placating. 

“Do – do you like your sensei?” the sentence flew out of Johnny’s mouth hurriedly, like he was trying to ask the question before he lost his courage, and Daniel tilted his head at him, thinking it over. 

“Yeah,” he said simply. “He’s probably the best friend I’ve got.” 

“’course he is,” Johnny muttered to himself. 

Daniel carefully picked his way over to the fence and sat down next to him, holding his hand out for the can. “Why? Do you like your sensei?” 

He took a swig of the beer, if only to look cool in front of Johnny, who was watching him carefully, and grimaced. Beer tasted horrible. He passed it back, Johnny’s hand closing momentarily over his own before he managed to slip his fingers out from underneath. 

“Johnny?” Daniel asked when he didn’t answer. 

“Hmm?”

“Do _you_ like your sensei?” 

Johnny winced and took another long drink, beer spilling down his chin, and didn’t answer. Daniel surveyed him carefully. He didn’t like this feeling, this pity he felt for Johnny Lawrence, but he wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to feel. Surely something happened to inspire him to get drunk, and it must have been bad if he was drinking outside Daniel’s house when he had friends he could confide in. 

And then Daniel remembered the list of friends Johnny enumerated for him at the bike rack. 

“Are you okay?” he asked finally, the question so broad that he wished he could take it back, could rearrange it and replace the words with ones that might actually mean something. 

But Johnny didn’t seem bothered by them. He shrugged one shoulder and stared out at the building, his jaw working like he was trying not to cry. 

“My mom’s going to be looking for me,” Daniel said cautiously, watching Johnny’s face for a reaction. 

“Go, LaRusso,” Johnny said, lifting the can of beer toward the building. 

“Why don’t you come inside?” Daniel asked before he could think to stop himself. “Crash on our couch. Just…don’t act drunk.” 

“I’m not drunk,” Johnny retorted, but the words were so slurred Daniel almost couldn’t understand them. 

He breathed an uneasy laugh. “Shut up, Johnny.” 

He stood and offered the blond boy his hand. After staring at it for a moment, Johnny reached up and took it. 

***

They met that next evening in the same alley, the chain link fence their backdrop, the echo of their recent Halloween fight just on the other side. Johnny still looked lost, like his hangover had bled into the next day, but when he caught sight of Daniel coming out of the building, he straightened his shoulders and the listlessness faded. 

“You’re not just going to clean my clock and then leave, right?” Daniel asked. It was a logical question, he protested silently when Johnny rolled his eyes. Just because Johnny crashed on Daniel’s couch to sleep off some illegal drinking didn’t mean they were friends. 

“We’re just sparring,” Johnny said, a tad impatiently. “Don’t you and your sensei spar?” 

Daniel furrowed his brow. Did he spar with Mr. Miyagi? What they didn’t wasn’t really sparring – Daniel threw the moves Miyagi told him to use, and Mr. Miyagi never really sent anything back. Or they worked on blocks. 

He had been silent too long; Johnny huffed and got into his fighting stance, his fists flexing and unflexing. “You’re going to get your ass kicked in that tournament, LaRusso.” 

Daniel mirrored him, nerves unfurling in his belly for the first time. “That a threat?” he asked. 

Johnny dropped his fists for a moment. “No, it’s an observation. Hands up.” 

He didn’t explain himself. 

They sparred for almost an hour, Johnny stopping them every few seconds to ask Daniel what his next move would be, and how that move would be either good or bad. _Do you block that or do you counterstrike, LaRusso? Why are you leaving yourself open like that, pick up your hands._

Daniel expected strong hits, he expected to be overpowered. He didn’t expect a teacher. 

When they were finished, night had fallen completely and the streetlight above them was flickering. Johnny gave him a bow, Daniel hurriedly following the motion, and then gave him a genuine half-smile. 

“Same time tomorrow?” 

***

Finding an easy peace with Johnny Lawrence was surprisingly simple. They weren’t particularly friendly at school – Johnny was always being pulled along by Dutch or Bobby, his eyes barely catching Daniel’s before he was gone – but they were friends after school, when they met by the chain link fence to spar. 

Mr. Miyagi didn’t ask about Daniel’s new proficiency for improvisation, or any new moves that Johnny taught him, and Daniel didn’t offer up the information. But he didn’t feel like it was that important – he and Johnny were friends, weren’t they? Wasn’t that the goal of the truce and the tournament in the first place? To keep him from being bullied? 

Ali slipped to the back of his mind – she seemed happy enough with Tommy, happy enough that she didn’t even sneer in Johnny’s direction anymore, and Daniel stopped looking for her in the hallways. 

Besides, he had those notes to worry about. 

He still couldn’t figure out who was sending them. They didn’t come every day, or even every other day. Their appearance was completely random, the notes themselves short and to the point. 

Usually they were silly little compliments – “You look nice in green,” or “Your smile stays with me even when you’re gone.” 

And then they started getting personal. 

“I think about your hands all the time,” was the newest one. “Thin and strong and dangerous. I want to hold them until they’re not a danger anymore. I want to make you feel safe.” 

It was scribbled on a torn piece of notebook paper, eraser marks scraping all over the words. Clearly, the author had written and rewritten the words until they sounded right. He put the note in his backpack (he had a special pocket for them now) and didn’t look at them again, but the words stayed with him even during classes. 

_I want to hold them until they’re not a danger anymore._

He stared down at his hands, tanned, calloused, but altogether ordinary. Who would have noticed anything special about his hands? It didn’t make sense.

“What’s wrong with you, LaRusso?” Johnny’s voice jerked him out of his thoughts. He was wearing a blue sweater today, sleeves rolled up. It was Daniel’s favorite color. He looked up at him, blue eyes matching the sweater, and didn’t speak. 

And then he realized he was supposed to be speaking, and hastened to tell the story. 

Johnny listened to him ramble about the notes with a wrinkle in his brow, but the longer he talked, the more Daniel realized he was just saying words without thinking about them. He was too distracted by the blue sweater. 

But why? It was just a stupid sweater. 

Johnny crossed his arms over his chest, the sleeves bunching with his muscles, and Daniel’s train of thought stuttered to a stop. 

“Do you want me to help you figure out who’s writing them?” he asked. 

Except Daniel was distracted by the damn sweater, by Johnny’s slightly concerned face, his eyes sparkling in the afternoon light, his hair so light it was almost white. He heard a question but never heard the content. 

“Uh,” he said, drawing the word out long enough that Johnny raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, sure.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just kidding, this is three parts now. Enjoy some angst!

They spent weeks looking over the notes, Johnny telling Daniel possible culprits, insisting that Daniel write them down in his notebook himself. Daniel didn’t recognize most of the names, but he didn’t dare tell Johnny that. Wouldn’t it be a little weird if he told his biggest enemy that he was now essentially his only friend? That he hadn’t bothered to make friends with anyone else? 

So he said nothing, and dutifully kept writing down possible names and standing with Johnny at the bike rack after school, Johnny’s blue eyes searching the faces of people as they walked out of the back doors, tapping Daniel on the shoulder whenever one of their suspects came out so Daniel could turn around and see them. 

All of them were girls, but none of them seemed to give a damn about Daniel. 

He hoped that when he locked eyes with whoever was writing these notes, that he would _feel_ it. He would feel that he was right, that he was looking at someone special. But no matter how many girls Johnny pointed him to, he felt nothing each time. 

And then he got another note in his locker, this one written on a creased sticky note. 

“Meet me outside the cafeteria during lunch if you want to see who I am.” 

He stared at it, the handwriting almost exactly the same as all the other notes. He inspected it closely, the awkward swipe through the t, the almost triangular letter a. It didn’t look like a girl’s handwriting much anymore. 

The thought didn’t bother him the way he thought it would. 

He didn’t show Johnny this note, though not for a lack of trying. But Johnny was failing math, and the teacher told him he could bring his grade up to passing if he came to after-school tutoring once a week, so Daniel found himself alone at the bike rack for the first time in almost two months. 

It was surprisingly lonely. 

He packed the note away in his backpack and went home, already counting down the minutes until Johnny would appear by the chain link fence so they could spar. 

Except when he got down to the fence, Johnny was wearing his blue sweater again, the one Daniel liked, and he was holding out a glass bottle of orange soda. Daniel took it, twisting the cap off and passing it to Johnny so he could do his stupid bottlecap trick, and sipped. 

“Are we not sparring today?” he asked. 

Johnny shrugged. “Aren’t you tired of getting your ass kicked every day?” 

“I don’t get my ass kicked every day,” Daniel protested. “I beat you like two days ago!” 

“An exception to the rule does not make the rule, LaRusso,” Johnny pointed out, sipping his own soda. “I thought maybe we’d do something else, give you a break.” 

He narrowed his eyes at Johnny. “You think I need a break?” 

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Everyone needs a break, dumbass. Come on, get your bike, we’re going to the beach.” 

Images of Johnny knocking him into the sand immediately replayed themselves before Daniel’s eyes. He felt nerves churning in his gut. But Johnny was looking at him with no malice in his sparkling blue eyes, and weren’t they friends now, anyway? Couldn’t he trust him? 

“Gimme a minute,” he said, trotting back off to his apartment to get his bike. 

***

The beach was different when Johnny Lawrence was shoving him playfully into the ocean instead of the sand. It was a completely different place when he was laughing. Daniel couldn’t understand it – he could hate being at the beach, hate being there with Johnny even more, but his laughter was infectious, and it was fun to do something other than karate for a change. 

“You’re telling me you don’t know how to surf?” Johnny asked, bottle of orange soda in his hands almost empty, sand dusting his calves and his feet. He was practically lounging in the shallow water, every bit the poster child for perfect California. 

Daniel felt like an unwieldy dork next to him. 

“When would I have learned?” he asked. “Between all of my Cobra beatings and biology class?” 

“LaRusso, surfing is a rite of passage in California,” Johnny said, ignoring Daniel’s mention of their awkward past. “You _have_ to learn.”

“You’re already teaching me karate,” Daniel pointed out. “I don’t know if I can have you teaching me two things.” 

“I can teach you lots of things, LaRusso,” Johnny pointed out smugly. 

Daniel flushed, deep dark red, and laughed nervously. “Yeah, like what?” 

He didn’t know what he expected Johnny to say – but his stomach was tight, full of swirling nerves that made him feel almost lightheaded. But Johnny didn’t answer, just turned and gave him an inscrutable smile that Daniel knew would keep him up later. 

Finally, after the silence had gone on too long, Johnny cleared his throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know, LaRusso?” 

“I would,” Daniel said, a laugh at the edge of his voice. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Johnny.” 

But Johnny didn’t say anything, just stood up and walked farther into the ocean, leaving Daniel behind to look after him in confusion. 

***

Daniel wasn’t sure he wanted to meet his secret admirer. What if the person writing those notes really was just secretly making fun of him to their friends? What if Johnny was wrong? He went back and forth the next morning, finally settling on going out behind the cafeteria during lunch if only so the mystery would finally end. 

He didn’t bother eating lunch – he was too nervous, and instead grabbed a book and went out behind the cafeteria so he could pretend that he was reading if anyone asked why he was out there alone. 

The minutes ticked by, Daniel staring at his book, through the words without really seeing. Was his secret admirer not coming? Perhaps that was the game after all; have Daniel sit outside during lunch and look like a fool only to stand him up. 

A few minutes before the bell, and Daniel had to admit that he’d been tricked. He sighed, shoving his book into his backpack and stood up, almost colliding with Johnny Lawrence. 

“Hey,” Johnny said, breathless, like he’d ran there. 

“What are you doing here?” Daniel asked, his backpack strap sliding down his shoulder. 

“Oh,” Johnny said, like he hadn’t really thought about it. “I thought you were meeting your secret admirer today. I wanted to see them.” 

Daniel furrowed his brow. “How did you know I was going to meet them today? I didn’t tell anyone.” 

Johnny’s face went still, a perfect mask of indifference. He swallowed, his blue eyes dancing around Daniel before landing on him again. “You showed me the note,” he said uneasily. “Don’t you remember?” 

Daniel shook his head. “No…I don’t.” 

“You show me all the notes,” Johnny pointed out. 

Daniel sighed, trying to think back to the day before. He was pretty sure he hadn’t shown Johnny the note at all, but they had talked a lot at the beach. Maybe he’d mentioned it then. 

“They didn’t show up, anyway,” he said, turning away from Johnny to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind. He heard Johnny’s deep sigh behind him. “What?” 

“That sucks,” Johnny explained. 

Daniel shrugged. “They’re probably just playing a prank on me, anyway,” he said. “I don’t think I should listen to the stupid notes anymore.” 

The bell rang, and Johnny was by his side, pressing a cling-wrapped sandwich into his hand. 

“What’s this?” he asked. 

Johnny stuck his hands in his pockets, sheepish, or embarrassed. “You gotta eat, LaRusso,” he said, and then he was gone in the mass of students that poured out of the cafeteria doors, Daniel staring after him. 

***

Johnny was still failing math – and the end of the semester was getting closer. He was starting to get really worried, worried enough that Daniel could tell that his mind was somewhere else when they sparred, and it was so bad that he finally relented and pulled up a chair to the lunch table where the Cobras and Ali usually sat and motioned for Johnny to come over. 

It was nerve-wracking, looking at all his former bullies and almost girlfriend, but Johnny didn’t seem bothered. He just pushed his tray away and got up, sauntering over in that way only confident people could. Daniel raised his eyebrows at Johnny’s notebook. 

“Come on, you have math homework,” he said. “I’m going to help.” 

“You don’t –”

“I’m good at math, Johnny,” Daniel said, like he was telling him a secret. Johnny scooted closer to hear him. “Let me help.” 

Johnny didn’t like to let people help – Daniel knew this from experience. Hell, he didn’t even want Daniel to offer him a hand when they were sparring. _It was weakness,_ he mumbled once, but the words stuck with Daniel for a long time afterward. 

Johnny reached into his bag and pulled out his notebook, his math worksheet sticking out of the top. Daniel reached for it and flipped it open, Johnny’s hand trying and failing to keep him at bay. The worksheet was only half finished, full of little eraser marks and scratchings that reminded Daniel of something. 

And then his eyes landed on the notes behind it. The awkward way he crossed the t, the almost triangular a. 

He stared at the words, at the letters, until Johnny managed to shut the notebook again and put it back in his backpack. Daniel could feel Johnny’s eyes on him, probing, asking without speaking what he’d seen. 

If he’d figured it out. 

He didn’t say anything. He just got up and started walking to the door. 

He felt so stupid. Of course this was some sort of long con. This had to be an elaborate joke. No wonder the Cobras had stopped beating him up, no wonder they didn’t seem to care that Johnny was spending time with the scrawny new kid they all claimed to hate. It all made sense. 

They didn’t care because they were all in on it. It was all a stupid joke. 

“LaRusso, stop.” 

There was something in Johnny’s voice that almost stopped him, but Daniel managed to pause in his exit for a moment before regaining his resolve and walking faster, almost a run, toward the door. 

But Johnny was taller, his legs longer, and he caught him in the hallway. 

“Don’t touch me,” Daniel yanked his arm back, stumbled back a few steps. Johnny didn’t press, didn’t follow. He just watched, blue eyes wide, jaw tight, as Daniel retreated. “It was you.” 

“Yeah –”

“You wrote all those notes –”

“I can explain –”

“What was it? Was – was this some sort – some sort of joke?” Daniel felt painfully close to tears, an embarrassed flush warming his face and neck and ears. “You and all of your little Cobra buddies laughing at me behind my back, huh?” 

_“What?”_

“Was this all just a con? Some payback for talking to your girl?” 

Johnny looked genuinely confused now, his brow furrowed, hands clenched at his sides. He blinked, and the furrow smoothed out, leaving behind a wounded expression that Daniel had never seen before, not even when Ali was yelling at him on the beach that first night. 

“You really think I’d do that?” 

“What other explanation do I have, John? Huh?” Daniel asked, but he was shouting now, and Johnny was taking a hasty step backward, away from him, and Daniel remembered Kreese, the man who yelled at him all the time. He snapped his jaw closed, took a deep breath. He didn’t want to yell. “You knew I wanted to know who wrote this, and you let me believe it was anyone but you.” 

“I didn’t –”

“What, you didn’t mean to?” Daniel interrupted. “You pointed out all of those pretty girls, the ones who would never look twice at me –”

“And would you have looked twice at me?” 

Daniel stopped. The bell would be ringing soon, and the hallway would be flooded with people. They didn’t have much time. 

“What?” 

Johnny tightened his jaw and nodded, once, down at his shoes, like Daniel’s confusion answered all of his questions. “I guess it doesn’t matter, now, does it?” he asked. 

“I don’t know what you mean –”

“Save it, LaRusso, you’re not stupid,” Johnny snapped, and finally, there was the anger, there was something Daniel recognized. “Don’t act like you’re surprised.” 

“That I’m surprised my friend lied to me?” Daniel shot back, incredulous. “Forgive me for thinking better of you, Johnny.” 

“Sure, do what you always do,” Johnny said, and his face was getting red, but whether he was angry or sad Daniel couldn’t really tell. “Act all high and mighty, like you’re better than me.” 

“That’s not what I said –”

“Was I really your friend?” Johnny asked, and suddenly he was closer than before, almost nose to nose with him. “Was I really, if all it took was this to make you think I’m an asshole again?”

Daniel didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything. He looked up into Johnny’s eyes, the same blue that hypnotized him whenever he looked out to the ocean, the same frown on his face that he’d seen when Johnny asked, so softly, if Daniel liked his sensei. 

“I didn’t lie,” Johnny said, and his voice broke, and that was the most terrifying part of all. Daniel looked away, down to his feet, but Johnny’s voice pulled his gaze back up. “I might not have been honest, but I didn’t lie.” 

“What does that mean?” Daniel asked, exasperated. 

Johnny sighed, and then the bell rang, and he was stepping away. “You’re the smart one, LaRusso,” he said. “You figure it out.”


	3. Chapter 3

Daniel didn’t go to the rest of his classes that day – he watched, confused and frustrated, as the bell rang and the hallways filled with students, Johnny quickly lost in the shuffle. All he caught was one last look of his piercing blue eyes before he was gone, and Daniel was being pulled along by the tide. 

He got his bike from the rack and pedaled home, knowing that his mother would be at work anyway, giving him plenty of time alone in their apartment before he would have to answer for his mood and facial expressions. He tried to let the physical exertion of riding his bike keep the day out of his mind, but it was too easy to let his thoughts wander back to Johnny, back to his handwriting, back to the notes. 

_“I might not have been honest, but I didn’t lie,”_ he’d said, and it made no sense, even now, when Daniel had the opportunity to think with a clear head. He had lied, he had purposefully told Daniel other people had written those notes, knowing all the while that he had written them himself! No matter how he looked at it, it was deception. 

And it didn’t make sense. 

What was the point in writing the notes in the first place? Why do it at all? 

Daniel remembered, as he was pulling his bike up the stairs to the apartment, that he had been the one to show Johnny the notes in the first place. What would Johnny have done if Daniel had never said anything? Would he have kept leaving the notes in his locker? Would he have stopped? 

It was easy to be angry, even easier to accept that Johnny had just lied to him for the sake of the lie, no motive necessary. Daniel was used to anger; he was comfortable there. But no matter how much he tried to be angry and nothing else, he was still curious. 

He rummaged through his backpack and took out the notes, all occupying their own pocket, various stages of ragged. He had reread them so many times, so entranced by the idea that someone thought these things about him, thought them enough that they felt compelled to tell him. He was just some scrawny new kid in school – it was encouraging to think that someone didn’t see him that way. 

And it had just been Johnny the whole time. 

He pulled out the note he had unfolded and refolded the most, and flattened it on the coffee table. 

_Sometimes you dream of something in class and your eyes turn soft. I wish you’d look at me that way._

When he’d gotten it, he assumed this was a huge clue. Who had he been ignoring in his classes? Who was watching him in class when he was bored? He had spent another week or two trying to covertly catch someone watching him in class. Johnny had taken notes for him in the classes they had together, and Daniel had been unsuccessful. 

Because the one who had been looking was taking notes for him.

_I might not have been honest but I didn’t lie._

Daniel looked down at the notes again – sticky notes, torn pieces of notebooks, napkins, written in marker, pen, pencil. There were compliments, pleas for understanding, attention, everything he ever wanted from Ali here, back when he was obsessed with Ali. 

He remembered Judy for a second – his girlfriend back in Jersey. He remembered sitting in the passenger seat of the car as Judy faded into the rearview mirror. It felt, at the time, like he was leaving behind the only person who had ever really understood him. It had been an open wound the whole drive to California that he hid by pretending he just didn’t want to go to California, that he didn’t like the heat, or the lack of winter. 

But he _missed_ Judy. 

And then Ali had chased her away with no effort. 

And here he was again, staring down at notes written by the person who had chased Ali away without even realizing he was doing it. 

He remembered Johnny looking at him in the early afternoon sunlight, asking if he wanted to spar. The hurt way his mouth tightened when Daniel assumed he was just trying to beat him up. His exasperated look over his fists when Daniel hadn’t blocked his face when they sparred. The way he put his hands on Daniel’s hip and guided him through a new kick. 

The way he forgot how to breathe when Johnny wore that blue sweater. 

_You’re the smart one, LaRusso. You figure it out._

He laughed, covering his face with his hands. He really wasn’t the smart one, was he? Hadn’t Johnny asked him, on that first day, if he thought a boy was sending the notes? 

_Don’t think you’re pretty enough to get the boys’ attention, LaRusso?_

It had been _right there_ the whole time.

He shoved the notes back into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He checked the clock hanging near the kitchen – Johnny would be at Cobra Kai right now. If he pedaled fast, he could catch him before he went home. 

***

“Is there a problem, Mr. Lawrence?” Kreese asked, pulling Johnny out of his reverie. Training was almost over, and then he could go home and steal a few beers out of the fridge and get drunk. He itched to be drunk – dizzy and staring at the ceiling of his room, his tape player turned up loud so he couldn’t hear anything but the music. Maybe then he could forget about LaRusso. 

LaRusso and his wide, hurt eyes in the empty hallway. The way his voice almost cracked when he asked Johnny if he wrote those notes for revenge. It hurt all over again to think about it, that LaRusso could think he would do that. Still, he wasn’t angry – he wanted to prove him wrong. 

He turned toward Kreese, catching Bobby’s sympathetic look on the way. 

He hadn’t told any of his friends what happened with Daniel. There wasn’t any point – none of them knew there was anything happening to begin with, except Bobby, and even that was an accident. He’d caught Johnny writing one of the notes a few weeks ago, and instead of cracking a joke, just dropped his hand on Johnny’s shoulder and said nothing at all. 

Johnny took that as a win. 

“No, Sensei,” he said, but even he could hear that the words were flat, dispassionate. Kreese cocked his head, as if trying to reason out exactly what wasn’t right about the response. Johnny hoped he wouldn’t be successful. 

“Then step up to the mat,” Kreese said, turning away from him, inspection apparently over. “Dutch, you too.” 

He didn’t want to fight right now, least of all fight Dutch, who always managed to land at least one incredibly painful hit in every sparring session. But he stood in front of Dutch and bowed anyway, knowing that Kreese wouldn’t let him out of it. This wasn’t a PE class, where he could say he had a stomachache and a note from his mother. 

Even though he did have a stomachache, a radiating bundle of anxiety that had settled there the second he saw Daniel’s eyes land on his handwriting in the notebook. It hadn’t gone away when Daniel yelled at him in the hallway, and it had only intensified when he realized Daniel had skipped the rest of his classes. 

Had he been so upset, so disgusted that he couldn’t even get through the rest of the school day? 

He wasn’t paying close enough attention, and Dutch’s first kick caught him in the chest and knocked him clean off his feet and onto the mat, the breath knocked out of him. 

He heard Tommy’s voice. “Point.” 

No shit, Tommy. 

“Get up, Lawrence,” Kreese snapped, and Johnny heaved a breath through his mouth, his lungs expanding greedily. Dutch was already back on his side, waiting. It was against Kreese’s rules to offer your opponent a hand, even if you were only sparring. 

He mouthed _‘sorry’_ at him, and that was enough. 

The next point went to Johnny, but the next two went to Dutch, and Johnny was left wheezing on the mat, pretty sure he’d just caught sight of Daniel LaRusso’s red jacket down the street on his bike. That idiot wouldn’t be stupid enough to come here, no matter what the circumstances, would he? 

“What the hell happened to you?” Jimmy hissed, glancing over to make sure Kreese wasn’t looking before he stuck out his hand for Johnny to take. “Dutch has never beaten you.” 

Johnny shrugged, shifting in his gi. His shoulder hurt. “Nothing,” he said dismissively. “Just tired.” 

He couldn’t stop his eyes from frantically searching the street outside. Had he imagined Daniel’s bright red jacket? He couldn’t see it now, couldn’t see the bike. He could feel Jimmy’s eyes on him, could feel that the whole room had fallen into some kind of awkward silence in the wake of his sparring loss, but it was suddenly very important that Daniel not be here right now. 

“Mr. Lawrence,” Kreese’s thundering voice pulled him back into the room. “Would you like to explain to everyone why you’re so distracted?” 

Johnny tensed his jaw. “No, Sensei.” 

“No, you don’t want to explain?” Kreese asked, incredulous. 

“No, Sensei,” he repeated calmly. 

“Johnny _what the hell_ –”

“ _Quiet_ ,” Kreese snapped, and the room went silent. “Mr. Lawrence, fifty push-ups on your knuckles.” 

He caught another glimpse, out of the corner of his eye, of a red jacket. His stomach dropped, and when Dutch’s eyes followed his out the window, he knew he had to leave. 

“I’m out of here,” he said. It was no longer important if Kreese was angry at him, or if he had to do a thousand push-ups on his knuckles. He knew what would happen to LaRusso if he came through the door, truce or not, with Kreese in this mood. 

“Mr. Lawrence –”

“Johnny –”

He was already at the door, grabbing his bag and his shoes, Kreese’s voice at his back, so close that when he shoved his way out the door and onto the street, he was shaking with anxiety, waiting for the blow the never came. He let the door close behind him, the jingle of the bell faint, and searched the street for what he knew he’d find. 

Daniel was waiting at the alley at the end of the street, his bike’s front tire just barely sticking out. Johnny wondered if it was there as a sign for him. 

But no, he didn’t want to hope. 

But there he was, leaning against the dirty brick wall, breathing heavily, sweat standing out on his forehead, the sleeves of his red jacket pushed up to his bony elbows. He gaped at Johnny, mouth half open. 

“You’ll catch flies, LaRusso.” 

“You have training right now,” Daniel said, snapping his mouth shut. 

Johnny shrugged. “I left.” 

“ _You_ –” He was pretty sure Daniel’s eyes were going to bulge out of his head. “Kreese is gonna kill you!” 

“Not if we leave before he comes out here,” Johnny said. “If – if you are here to see me –”

Daniel exhaled in exasperation. “No, Johnny, I pedaled all the way across town to go to,” Daniel squinted up at the store on the other side of the dojo, “Clancy’s Women’s Shoes.” 

“Shut up, LaRusso.” 

It was surreal, seeing Daniel here, making his sarcastic jokes, when a few hours ago he was yelling at him in the hallway, his face bright red. Johnny could feel a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, but would it be too optimistic of him to think that he was forgiven? He didn’t know, so he kept his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“If you put your shoes on, you can hop on the pegs,” Daniel said tentatively when Johnny didn’t say anything else. “We can go somewhere.” 

*** 

Daniel didn’t have a plan, or a location in mind – he just knew that Cobra Kai would be getting out in a few minutes and the Cobras all had their bikes parked at the end of the street. He didn’t know how much Johnny’s friends knew (if he had to guess he’d say they didn’t know anything at all), but based on Johnny’s hurried look back at the dojo as he slipped his shoes on, he too felt the pressure to be anywhere but there. 

Johnny stepped on the back pegs of Daniel’s bike, his hands resting on Daniel’s shoulders, and patted him lightly to let him know he was ready. Except Johnny wasn’t used to riding on the pegs of someone’s bike, so before long, Daniel was trading him places and letting him lead. 

It felt almost like fall in New Jersey, with the sky streaked with dark orange and pink, the wind just barely starting to get cool as the sun slipped out of sight. If he glanced down, he could see Johnny’s blond hair flowing in the wind, and a sliver of his face – mouth relaxed, eyes soft. 

_Sometimes you dream of something in class and your eyes turn soft. I wish you’d look at me that way._

There was something enchanting about that softness, especially when he wasn’t used to seeing it. The note, still stuffed in his backpack, made more sense now. 

He tightened his hold on Johnny’s shoulders and wound his arms around, so he was almost hugging him from behind, his chin resting on the top of Johnny’s head. He felt Johnny take a surprised breath, too quiet to be a gasp, and laughed. 

“Where are you taking me?” he asked.

Johnny didn’t answer, but ducked his head so his chin landed on top of Daniel’s overlapping forearms. 

Daniel didn’t realize where they were going until he saw the ocean, and the beach stretching out before them. Johnny pulled the bike to a stop, near a rack with only one lonely bike attached to it, dark green and fading from the sunlight. Daniel hopped off the pegs of the bike, staring out at the ocean, listening to the sound of the waves. 

“This isn’t –”

“No,” Johnny interrupted him. “I wouldn’t take you there.” 

No, he wouldn’t take him to where they met. They didn’t have to say why. 

“So,” Johnny said, turning toward the sand, and Daniel followed, his backpack bouncing against his hip. “You figured it out.” 

“Well,” Daniel replied smugly. “I am smart.” 

Johnny rolled his eyes. Daniel watched the exasperated look slide off his face, replaced with worry. He watched his blue eyes look out at the ocean, as if trying to find something that Daniel couldn’t hope to see. 

“Why?” he asked finally, when Johnny didn’t speak. 

Johnny looked back at him, blue eyes lit from the sunset, and Daniel’s mouth went dry. “Why did I write the notes?” 

Knocked silent, Daniel nodded dumbly. 

“You know, when I came to this school, I was bullied,” Johnny said. 

Daniel chuckled. The idea that someone could bully Johnny – but Johnny wasn’t laughing, and the laugh quickly died in his throat. 

“It was middle school, and I was…a shy, quiet wimp,” he continued. “So these older kids would throw my lunch on the ground, push me off my bike, stuff like that.” 

Halloween flashed through Daniel’s mind. He didn’t speak. 

“And then I joined Cobra Kai,” he continued. “And Kreese made me strong. And once I had confidence, once I was…less of a pussy, those guys left me alone. And Cobra Kai brought me friends. And then I realized, when your sensei came to the dojo with you, and you were standing there with your huge eyes…” he trailed off, looking out at the ocean. “I had become those same assholes that I hated. Because of what? A girl who doesn’t like me anymore?” 

He turned toward Daniel, who was still angled toward him, instead of at the ocean, brow furrowed, trying to follow the logic. 

“And then I starting noticing you, playing soccer before school –”

“I would have been on the team, but you guys got me kicked out of tryouts –”

“No one likes a whiner, LaRusso,” Johnny interrupted, grinning when Daniel rolled his eyes. “And you were completely alone, and I wanted to get to know you. Bobby actually caught me looking at you once, and told me that I should stop mooning over girls,” Johnny laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “He had no idea who I was really looking at. So I guess I started thinking about you…like that instead.” 

“And the notes?” Daniel asked. 

Johnny shrugged. “I just wanted to see how you’d react to the compliments. I only planned on putting that first one in your locker. But you were so curious…” he shrugged. “And then you started showing them to me, and I figured if I stopped writing the notes, we’d stop hanging out…” 

“Yeah, right,” Daniel said lightly, and Johnny ducked his head again, a pleased smile painted over his face. 

“It seemed like you liked them –”

“I did,” Daniel replied hurriedly. “I _do_.” 

“But not when you found out I wrote them.” 

He was looking out at the ocean again, but this time he looked troubled. Daniel let him look, let the silence stretch. He wasn’t sure what he could say that wouldn’t somehow hurt Johnny’s feelings. And he hadn’t come here for that.

“Maybe I was being paranoid –”

Johnny scoffed, and crossed his arms over his chest, still looking out at the ocean. “You thought I was pranking you,” he said coolly, turning his eyes on Daniel when he sighed. 

“Well, the alternative was that a guy who looks like you had a crush on me,” Daniel replied. “Forgive me if that wasn’t a possibility I immediately thought of.” 

Johnny paused in his inspection of Daniel’s face and tilted his head at him, eyes losing a little bit of their steely edge. “A guy who looks like me, huh, LaRusso?” he asked. “Care to elaborate?” 

Shit. “Uh, no,” Daniel said sheepishly. 

“A guy who looks like me…” Johnny tapped his chin with his index finger, feigning thoughtfulness. “Whatever could you mean?” 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “You _know_ –”

“I _don’t_ know –”

“Tall, blond, tanned, pretty –” he mumbled his way through the adjectives, abruptly stopping when Johnny stepped closer to hear him better. 

“I’m sorry?” he asked. “What was that last one?” 

“I have no idea what you mean –”

“Because I think you called me pretty –”

“Pretty sure I didn’t –”

“Okay,” Johnny held up his hands. “Okay, whatever, enjoy your denial.” 

But he was smiling, really smiling, his hands fidgeting with the front of his gi, still in his Cobra Kai uniform (did they call it a uniform? Daniel didn’t know), and without thinking, Daniel reached out and took him by the hand –

And the roar of dirt bikes shook them both out of their spell. 

“Shit,” Johnny muttered, tearing his eyes away from Daniel to look for the source of the sound. 

“We gotta get out of here,” Daniel said, tugging him toward the bike. Johnny stumbled after him, still looking back toward the sound, hand tangled in Daniel’s. 

They were on the bike and about to pedal away when Johnny caught sight of a familiar head of bleached blond hair. 

“Let’s go,” Daniel said into his ear, arms tight around him.

There was no way they would be able to outrun them on a bike – but it didn’t seem like they needed to. The dirt bikes’ roaring engines faded away the longer Johnny pedaled, and even though Daniel kept twisting around to look back, they never spotted Dutch or any of the others again.

They pulled over near Daniel’s apartment complex, the streets worn and the palm trees dilapidated and sickly, Johnny breathing heavily, Daniel searching the streets for anyone following them. 

“They were probably just going to the beach,” Johnny said to Daniel’s paranoid look. “Not following us.” 

“So they don’t know?” Daniel asked, even though he already knew they didn’t. 

Johnny shook his head. “But I’m going to tell them,” he said firmly, stepping off the bike and using his foot to put out the kickstand. “They’ll be okay with it, or I’ll kick their asses.” 

“You’re – you’re going to tell them?” Daniel asked. 

Johnny shrugged. “Well, yeah,” he said, reaching out to take Daniel’s hand again. “I meant what I said in all of those stupid notes. And I’m sick of writing them. I want to say them, where people can hear. I should be allowed to do that, and you should be allowed to hear it.” 

Daniel was speechless. “I – well, that’s sweet, Johnny, but those guys – won’t they –”

“They’re my friends,” Johnny said with a shrug. “And even though we were all dicks to you, they’re not actually bad people. I trust them.” 

He tugged Daniel closer by his hand, releasing it to slip his arm around Daniel’s waist. “I can keep it to myself, though, if that’s what you want.” 

Daniel shrugged. It was hard to think, looking at Johnny’s face this close, hair shining golden in the failing light. “They’re your friends,” he said softly. “They’re important to you. If I mess that up –”

“You’re important to me, too,” Johnny interrupted firmly. 

He was so close Daniel had to crane his neck back to be able to see him completely. He could smell the mats of Cobra Kai on the material of his gi, could smell the ocean in his hair. His eyes were even bluer up close. Johnny was looking at him, eyes darting over his face, and Daniel had the urge to ask him what he was looking at, but he didn’t have the courage. 

“Yeah?” he asked. 

Johnny shrugged. “I mean, yeah, I guess.” 

Daniel laughed. “Romantic.” 

“Shut up and kiss me, then,” Johnny said, rolling his eyes. 

“Wow, I think I might swoon,” he replied flatly. 

He was still laughing when Johnny swooped in and kissed him, the hand around his waist pulling him so close they were flush together, the other hand cradling the back of his neck. Daniel let him lead, too preoccupied with the hand around his waist, the other one running gently through his hair. And then Johnny pulled away, mouth tight with worry, and Daniel had to huff impatiently and pull him back in for more.

He was gentle, so painfully gentle that Daniel couldn’t help but think about the notes he left. 

_You have a nice face when it isn’t bruised._

Johnny’s hand left Daniel’s hair to trace the line of his jaw with one finger, humming appreciatively against his lips. 

_I think about your hands all the time. Thin and strong and dangerous. I want to hold them until they’re not a danger anymore. I want to make you feel safe._

He let one of his hands cradle the side of Johnny’s face, soft and tender and almost ghostly. Johnny pulled back to look at him, lips dark pink and eyes half-closed, a smile barely twisting his mouth. 

_Your smile stays with me even when you’re gone._


End file.
